I'm Just Here For The Cake
by Little-Red-Spit-Fire
Summary: It's two years after the war, and Harry and Ginny aren't speaking to one another. Each still wants the other, but neither will break the silence. So what happens when Hermione and Ron decide to get married on a whim and use them as their Maid of Honor and Best Man? This is a romantic comedy about our favorite (and OTP) couple, Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter.
1. Chapter 1

A brand new story I started. I'm still working on Price of War, no worries. I just wanted to try my hand at a romantic comedy for once. So please do let me know what you think! This will be a short story; only a few chapters long. So read, review, and enjoy! :)

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**I'm Just Here For The Cake**

Sep. 3rd

My brother's getting married in seven days to my best friend. It's great. I'm happy for them. Really. I mean they're perfect for each other. The only problem is I'm the Maid of Honor, and my ex, well; he's the Best Man.

It's kind of a big problem, really. You see, we split up before the war because it was too dangerous. Or at least _he_ thought it was. At any rate, we split up with the promise that he'd come back to me after the war was over. Only he didn't. He kept his distance, preferring to be alone most of the time. Sure, he came over once in a while, but always to see Ron. Once Ron left The Burrow and moved in with Hermione, he pretty much stopped coming over all together. He would just pop in for major holidays. I suppose that's for the better. Help me get over him and all.

Only, it's not working. I can't stop thinking about why he didn't come back, about why he won't talk to me, or barely even look at me even. I don't understand. I don't know what I did wrong…no, you know what? I didn't do anything wrong. _He_ did. _He_ chose not to come back to me. _He _chose to get a flat in London on his own. _He_ chose to only confide in Ron…_RON_ of all people!

Sometimes all I want to do is slap him. Slap him so hard he bleeds. Other times I want to snog him. It's infuriating. Hermione says we just need to sit down and talk about everything that happened back then. I'd rather not.

"Ginny, I'm telling you, Harry wants to talk to you, he just doesn't know how," Hermione tells me as we test her wedding cake options. They decided to get married on a whim a week ago, so the planning has been rather crazy, as you might imagine.

"That's rubbish," I stab my fork into the piece closest to me. "Everyone knows how to talk."

"Not Harry," Hermione gives me a disapproving look, and then tries a piece to her left, weighing it against the others. "You know how inarticulate he can be."

"If he wishes to talk, he may do so," I skewer some cake, not really tasting it. "But I will not be the one who gives in. I did nothing wrong."

"Ginny," Hermione pokes my arm with her fork, looking angry. "This isn't some fight you two are having. This is serious."

"No, it's not. He's dead." I say moodily, rubbing my arm.

Hermione looks shocked, and then pokes my arm even harder with her fork. "That _isn't_ funny Ginevra. It isn't funny in the least."

"I thought it was," I mumble, continuing to rub my arm.

"Well it's not," she grabs my fork, "and if you aren't going to help me pick which cake is better, you don't need a fork."

"Hey!" I reach for the fork just as she moves it out of arms reach. "I'm trying to help. They all taste the same. Can I please have the fork back?"

"Ugh, you're just like your brother!" She throws my fork back on my plate. "He's all 'it taste the same, 'Mione! Cake's cake.' Cake is _not_ just cake. It is our wedding cake!"

I nod like I understand. In truth, I've no idea what she's going on about. It's just cake. Honestly, sometimes I think she's gone mental. Who tries to plan a wedding with only _two weeks!_ I'm just happy she's stopped bugging me about Harry.

"Anyhow," She digs back into her cake. "You can't treat this like a fight, Ginny."

I spoke to soon.

"Why not?" I ask, picking at a marble cake with white and blue frosting. "That's what it is, isn't it?"

"No. Not really. You two haven't spoken in _two years_. Not since the Final Battle." She debates a piece of yellow cake with white and green frosting.

"Thanks for reminding me."

"My point is," she grabs my arm, turning me towards her. "No one is 'giving in' to anyone else. There wasn't even a fight. You guys just…stopped talking."

"Correction—_he_ stopped talking," I say angrily. "Or rather, he stopped talking to me. He was fine talking to _Ron_ though."

"I know," Hermione looks at me sadly, giving my arm a gentle squeeze. "But you're both in pain from it. I see how much he hurts every day. One of you just needs to start communicating with the other."

"Well that's not going to be me," I say stubbornly, as I start eating more cake. "I don't know why _he_ should be in pain. This is obviously what _he_ wanted."

"Ginny, he didn't want this," Hermione tries to make me to look at her again, but I won't.

"Then why didn't he come back to me after the war was over? Why did he run off to London?" I ask, close to tears.

"I—I don't know," Hermione looks down into her lap. "I don't know Ginny."

"He talks to Ron, doesn't he?" I abandon the cakes, thankful that we had a private cake tasting at least.

"Yes…" She seemed a little wary.

"Doesn't Ron tell you anything about it? Don't you know _anything_?" I plead with her to tell me something, anything, about why Harry just left without saying a word.

"I'm sorry Ginny," she watches me sadly, "Ron keeps that all to himself. You know how the boy are."

One of the servers finally comes out of the kitchen to ask us if we'd like a refill of our waters. They undoubtedly heard the whole thing and are probably waiting to sell their story to the nearest gossip magazine. Unfortunately, being friends with The Chosen One, and being the heroes of the war has given us somewhat of a celebrity status around here for the past two years. Not only Hermione, Ron, Harry and I, but also, Neville. We get it the most I think.

We tell the server we'd like two new glasses of water, and she walks back off towards the kitchen, where three other servers quickly duck away as the door shuts behind her. I go back to eating the different cakes in front of me, not tasting a single one. I'm determined to not let a single tear fall. I will not give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Too many tears have been spelt over this ordeal as it is. Hermione watches, worried, as I eat piece after piece. Eventually she returns to her cake as well, and we eat in silence.

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I hope you liked it! Please leave me a review with what you thought about it. Constructive criticism is welcome. :)


	2. Chapter 2

I'm sorry for such the long wait, I've been very busy and have also been working on my original story I hope to eventually find a publisher for once I finish. I'm now going to be working on the next chapter for Price of War, so don't worry if you read that one, I haven't forgotten about it.

so anyway, please sit back, relax, and read the next chapter of, I'm Just Here For the Cake. Then once you're done, kindly leave me a review in that awesome review box. Let me know what you think of it! :)

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Sept. 4th

One of the few perks of being celebrity war heroes is how people will bend over backwards to help you. Without that, I don't think this wedding would be able to happen so quickly. Everyone wants Ron and Hermione to be married in _their_ church, and have a reception at _their_ banquet hall. They all want the publicity. So when Ron and Hermione announced the proposal, they were immediately bombarded with owls from every church and banquet hall up and down the country. Then came the reporters and the photographers. Witches and wizards from the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly, as well as several other tabloid rags, have been camping outside their apartment day and night. They follow Ron and Hermione into town, snapping photo after photo. The Daily Prophet even has a special daily section devoted to the wedding, and those in the wedding. It's usually headlined as "The Weasley Wedding of the Century." Apparently having so many war heroes, and the Boy Who Lived, all in the same wedding, made it the 'wedding of a century.'

It's awful. We can't go anywhere without them. But Hermione is able to have her dream reception hall, despite the fact that it's booked solid for the next three years. So I suppose that's a perk. I do feel a little bad for the bride who was ousted though.

Hermione, Ron and I are currently hiding out at the Burrow. We decided not to brave the reporters and photographers for today.

"But why do you want to get married _here_?" I ask her. We're sprawled out on the floor with bits of fabric scattered around. We're supposed to be picking out the colors for the napkins, table and chair covers, but we abandoned that a while ago to talk about Hermione's choice of where to have the ceremony.

"Because I loved how Bill and Fleur's turned out. I thought it was beautiful." Hermione sighs, "it would just be the actual wedding part. Plus, we'd be able to keep the press out that way."

"That's a good point," Ron nods and flicks a lime green color fragment towards the fireplace. "I don't really want them interrupting our ceremony."

"But it's just so, I don't know, blah." I quickly add, "I mean, you can have the ceremony anywhere. _Anywhere_. And you choose here. Where we grew up, and where I still live.

Hermione laughs a little and throws several color swatches at me. "When it's your wedding, you may choose to go where ever you like. But I choose here."

I sigh and look down at the pink and blue color swatches next to me on the floor. I used to think I'd get married. Have the whole big wedding, beautiful reception, amazing dress…everything. But not anymore. Not since they only man I had ever considered marrying had stopped talking to me two years ago.

"Oh," Hermione realizes something's wrong. She touches my hand lightly, and looks at me with concern. "I'm sorry Gin. I wasn't thinking. I was just being silly. I didn't mean to hurt you or anything."

"I know," I say quietly, trying to get rid of the thoughts.

"What are you two on about?" Ron looks over at us, confused. He never was one for putting two and two together without Hermione's help.

"It's nothing, Ron," Hermione gives my hand a gentle squeeze then looks up towards Ron, clearly telling him to drop it.

"Oh, is this about Harry again?" He asks, not getting Hermione's message. "Ginny, I don't know what your problem is, but can't you two fix this whole 'not talking' thing? It's getting to be a bit difficult for me."

Hermione scowls at Ron, and hisses at him to shut up.

"What do you mean, you don't know what 'my problem' is?" I immediately become defensive. Brushing right past the fact that he thought this situation was difficult for _him_. "Did he tell you I had a problem? Did he tell you this whole thing was _my _fault or something?"

Hermione covers her face in her hands, shaking her head slightly.

Ron looks taken aback at my defensive retort. "Well, yeah, sort of."

"What exactly has he been telling you?" I growl. "Because whatever it is, it's a lie. I didn't start this. _He_ did."

Hermione looks to Ron and shakes her head, trying to tell him to stop.

"No he didn't," Ron keeps plunging ahead. It's a good thing Hermione is between is, because if she weren't, I'm pretty sure I'd have jinxed him by now.

"Ron," Hermione forces him to look at her. "Just stop. You don't know anymore about this than the rest of us. Just _stop_."

"No," I stand up, putting my hands on my hips. "Let's hear all about what _Potter_ told you."

Ron looks a little nervously at Hermione, not wanting to get in trouble with her, but still wanting to speak his mind and stand up for his best friend.

"Well, go on then!" I yell at him.

Hermione just sighs and crosses her arms over her chest in defeat.

"Harry says, after the final battle, you weren't really talking to him very much," Ron starts off, still sitting on the floor. "Then once he moved to London, you stopped speaking to him all together. So, that sounds like you're the one who started this big whole mess."

"That's what he says?" I ask, my eyes flashing dangerously. "He says I wasn't really talking to him much after the final battle?"

"Yes," Ron looks up at me a little nervously. "And that's why he moved out to London. He didn't want to be around, causing you pain. He thought it would be best if he just stayed away then."

Hermione makes an exasperated sound and bites her lip. She starts gathering up the forgotten color swatches, probably worried I'll incinerate them all and she'll never get her colors picked out.

"Exactly what was I supposed to say after the battle?" I yell at Ron, who, for his part, stayed calm. "What was he expecting?"

"I don't know," Ron admits. "But that's what set this whole thing off."

"Are you kidding me? Are you _fucking_ kidding me?!" I yell even louder, anger getting the better of me. "I was sixteen. _Sixteen_! Fred just died, I lost too many friends to count, and for a while there, I had even thought I lost Harry. And he just thinks I'm supposed to be completely untraumatized, and up for _talking_?"

My voice shakes, and my knees tremble. I have never talked to anyone about that battle. It's too difficult. Too many awful things happened, and too many good people died.

Hermione and Ron glance at each other, worry etched all over their features. They've never heard me speak about this. They don't know what to do, or what to say.

"I lost a brother that day," I say quietly, sinking on to the floor, unable to hold myself up anymore. The anger seeps out of me, but is replaced by a deep, dark depression I haven't felt since those first few weeks after the battle.

"So did I," Ron says so quietly, I almost don't hear him.

"How was I _supposed_ to act after that?" I swipe away a few tears that have sprung up. "Like everything was fine? Like I didn't miss Fred, Tonks, Lupin, everyone?"

"I—I don't know," Ron stumbles on his words. He's never seen me so defenseless and vulnerable, and I'm pretty sure it's freaking him out.

"I'm sorry I wasn't ready to talk to him before we'd even buried our dead in the ground," I press on, starting to cry. "I'm sorry I couldn't get past their deaths as easily as he seems to be able to," Ron starts to say something, but Hermione quiets him with one look, "I'm sorry I'm not as hardened as he is. I'm sorry I actually mourn for people," I'm crying so hard now I can barely speak. "I'm sorry."

Hermione pulls me into her, hugging me tightly, and letting me drench her new blue coat with a mix of tears and snot. She rubs my back soothingly, and tells Ron to get us some water.

"I'm sorry," I choke out one last time.

"No Ginny," She hugs me tighter, "I'm sorry, for not realizing you were having such a hard time."

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I hope you liked this chapter. After I write the next chapter for Price of War, I'll work on the next chapter for this one. But keep in mind that I'm also working on my own original story, and have (finally) found a job. So my time is limited now. But anyway, don't forget to leave me a review with your feeling of this last chapter! :)

and thanks a bunch to those 6 of you who have reviewed the first chapter! Your feedback is wonderful. I'm very grateful for it!


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